Page 86 of Hilarina and the Ogre

Only then did Trenton process that Hilary meant to remove the tape.

It wasn’t something he was prepared for. A part of him had already dismissed ever having that kind of freedom again. Not because he was a dramatic idiot, but because it had seemed impossible to move past the current state. But here was Hilary, already softening the tape with a wet cloth. Only the tape over his mouth, of course, but that was still more than expected. Especially because the man had clearly been thinking about how best to do it. After the tape was wet, Hilary applied the baby oil, working methodically, using a pair of shears and the oil to dig at a single spot. Once the first cut was made, and the edge exposed, Hilary worked the oil in from there, peeling back tape as he went. With such a method, the process went quickly. It was nearly painless, not at all the full waxing Trenton was expecting. And then suddenly the air was coming in through his mouth. It was then that he nearly ruined it, Hilary’s name already in his throat and wanting to burst out, but somehow he held it in. It burned there, but everything hinged on that one moment of restraint. He remained silent.

There were no congratulations. Hilary retrieved the sandwich and held it up to his mouth. For a moment, he thought of refusing. But then he came up with a different strategy. He took the first bite. His mouth was drier than he realized, and the peanut butter gummed it up at once, making it nearly impossible to swallow. But Hilary had anticipated that and had the milk ready for him, complete with one of those pink and silver straws. Trenton remembered now that they were left over from a party he himself had organized, yet another thing that had failed to trigger his memories. The entire apartment was full of such triggers. Maybe Hilary thought he’d given up on trying to make him remember, but considering the surroundings, persistent habits and familiar language, the man seemed just as determined as ever. Trenton almost couldn’t bear to put his mouth on the straw, such a precious thing now. Concrete evidence of Hilary’s devotion and refusal to remove even a single trace of him.

Hilary held up the sandwich again and waited for Trenton to take the second bite. He didn’t.

It was as if his beloved had been waiting for such a resistance, though. In a flash, Hilary’s expression darkened, and he pushed the sandwich up against his mouth with some force. “You won’t like tube feedings, I promise.”

Trenton kept his mouth firmly shut, and let Hilary mash the bread against his lips. It was a good thing he’d given up on things like dignity a long time ago. Hilary was furious. “You think I’m bluffing? I can have an NG tube down your nose in less than ten minutes.”

Trenton was sure he could, if those needle skills were anything to go by. “Take a bite.”

It was risky to use the words. Hilary had forbidden him from speaking, and he was sure that if he’d tried for something personal—a desperate confession maybe, or some plea to hear him out, he’d have had the tape back on so fast he really might have said farewell to language for life. But he kept his voice as calm as possible and said only those three words, shutting his mouth again as soon as he was done.

Hilary froze with the threat still in his throat. For a moment, disbelief fought with the outrage for dominance, but in the end, the outrage came out on top. “You think you’re in a position to negotiate?”

Trenton said nothing. They were at the most dangerous part of the transaction now. He had everything to lose and no bargaining chips. He kept his mouth shut and his eyes level.

The sandwich crumpled in that grip. He thought maybe it was about to meet the wall, but then, with a savagery that had the poor thing torn asunder, Hilary shoved half the sandwich into his own mouth.

“Careful—!”

“One more word.” Hilary was entirely iron, a creature so dangerous that only the greatest fool would dare take him on. “One more. Try me.”

When Hilary held the sandwich back out to him, Trenton bit down and said no more. He had accomplished what he wanted. Or at least, the bare minimum of what he wanted. He didn’t think peanut butter was the best choice for a man who had thrown up the few liquid calories he’d tried to ingest, but it was still a step in the right direction.

They shared a second sandwich as well, Hilary matching him bite for bite. But the moment it was finished, back the tape came, and just as secure as the first time. Trenton told himself not to despair. Even if the situation didn’t look any different from before, it was different. Hilary had spoken to him, had eaten, and wasn’t shaking nearly as badly. The man still wore panic in his eyes and had yet to sleep more than an hour or two at a time, but it was an improvement. Baby steps, Trenton told himself.

He had to pee because of the fluids, and his discomfort must have shown, or maybe Hilary anticipated the need, because he came back with an empty pitcher meant as a kind of urinal. “I can put in a Foley,” he threatened at the first sign of hesitation. “No difference to me either way.”

A Foley. By that, he meant a catheter. Maybe it didn’t matter to Hilary, but Trenton wanted a tube up his urethra even less than he wanted one down his nose. So he said nothing as the man got his pants open and reminded himself that this was the same Hilary he had made love to already, and a trained nurse who did things like this every day, besides. But in his mind, he kept seeing the boy dragged into the warehouse. The one pinned down with crushing strength, his screams choked off, as they forced him open.

“Trenton.” Hilary was firm, but that’s all it was. He didn’t put anger into it. “Do you need me to leave for this?”

It was that misunderstanding again. This strange worry over the sound of his peeing. It was only after he’d emptied his bladder, and Hilary had left to dump the contents of the pitcher in the toilet, that he remembered the source. It was the urinal thing. He’d gotten so used to not using them he no longer did it consciously. Whale dick preceded his meeting with Hilary. It had been the end of middle school, maybe. It wasn’t like his penis was that big, but he’d gone through puberty earlier than the other kids, so he supposed it had seemed that way in comparison. It wasn’t until later that it occurred to him that ‘whale dick’ might actually have been a compliment just a few years later, but by then the shame had settled in too deep for him to consider that. In either case, he didn’t have a shy bladder, though he kind of liked the idea of Hilary thinking so. It seemed much cuter than the real reason. Maybe one day he’d tell him. It was a nice thought to hold on to. That there might be a time after this one. A time when they could laugh over something stupid like whale dick. It seemed impossible now, but maybe it wasn’t.

But then Hilary returned, and that dark and locked-away expression had Trenton shutting down all thoughts of the future. He couldn’t afford any distractions. One mistake, just one small thing now, could break whatever they had between them forever.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Cut Me Free

Hilary fell asleep before the sky outside had gone fully dark. Trenton must have followed, because when he woke, the bed was empty. It was embarrassing how quickly he panicked, and not just at the thought of having Hilary gone. For the first time, it hit him just how vulnerable he was. He could die there. Tied up in the dark, alone in a house that wasn’t his. Or was it? He still didn’t know what Hilary meant to do with him, mostly because he was sure Hilary didn’t know that answer himself.

It took him almost a minute to hear the crying. It was partly because the panic had his blood pumping loudly in his ears, and partly because Hilary was trying to be quiet. The man always seemed ashamed of his tears—a sentiment Trenton couldn’t understand. The crying had always struck him as an integral part of his friend’s goodness. He himself hadn’t been able to cry until after he’d met Hilary, like the man had unlocked the part inside him that allowed it.

Strangely, it was hearing that quiet crying that had the panic subsiding. His situation hadn’t changed. He had still betrayed and broken Hilary, but the fact that his beloved could still cry over him, and that he had moved out of the room to do it so as not to disturb his sleep, reminded him of the most crucial point. That Hilary still loved him. Despite everything. Because of everything.

Eventually, he heard the sound of water and clinking dishes, some lights flicking on and off. He might have dozed again but came around when Hilary returned. Maybe it was because he was no longer afraid, but as Hilary climbed into bed, Trenton turned, forcing his awkward taped-up body to fall over onto the side facing his friend. Hilary froze, but when there were no other movements—and clearly no signs of escape—the man relaxed again. No, it was more than that. Hilary crept closer, and when he lay down, their knees bumped, close enough to feel the heat off his beloved’s body. Trenton could have accepted that. It was already a victory. But his reassurance made him greedy, and he squirmed that little bit closer, and his hands, mostly covered in tape, but still with bits exposed, brushed up against Hilary’s stomach. He felt Hilary tense, and prepared himself for the rejection, but the man didn’t move away. And then, just a little, the barest amount, Hilary pressed closer. Against each other now, Trenton could feel the man’s breath on his neck. And again, it was impossible that he might have forgotten him. This man his body recognized no matter how many memory wipes it went through—this man he obsessed over every time, who he fell madly in love with every time. Over and over, this rope that tied them together, the bond he would choose no matter what it cost him. Maybe it wasn’t the act of forgetting that was meant to have his attention, but the remembering, and the inevitability of remembering. How no matter how deeply his mind tried to bury it, or how often it tried to run, not once did he ever resist the pull of Hilary, throwing himself toward him and into that life again at again, hooked on him at the first sighting, and still his after the parting, his body and mind simply going dormant whenever they were apart, waiting for the inevitable next meeting, since there was no lifetime and no set of memories that would keep there from being that next meeting.

In the morning, Hilary prepared for work, and he seemed more or less stable. The man’s hands weren’t shaking as he dressed, and he went through his morning routine without incident. Only at the end, when he was dressed and ready, his bag packed and his phone in hand, did the panic come. Hilary stood there in the doorway, unable to take the step that would carry him any further, eyes pinned to his partner, his breath coming quicker with every inhale.

It was madness to go. To leave him there, tied up, alone. Not because of what might happen to him, but because Trenton knew his friend’s mental state couldn’t take any more strain. Leaving him when he wouldn’t know what he was doing or whether his memory was fading again. No, Hilary couldn’t leave. It was impossible. But still, the man stood there, fighting it and fighting it, until he came back to the bed, grabbed Trenton by the back of his hair and said, “Will you wait here? Will you wait right here for me?”

If he’d been a bastard, he would have refused. That would have kept Hilary in the house, and he might have even gotten the tape off his mouth that way. But he looked his friend in the eyes, trying to give off what steadiness he could, and nodded.

Hilary shut his eyes and creases cracked all along his face. The man took some breaths, and each could have been a sob. Fighting and fighting. “I can’t skip again. I’m out of hours and the shift is short-staffed.”